


short circuit

by kurooos



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Androids, M/M, Overstimulation, Post Game, Self-Lubrication, little bit of plot before the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: Elijah Kamski gives Connor the ability to sense pain and pleasure after the revolution and then offers to help him explore the latter more thoroughly.





	short circuit

**Author's Note:**

> this is set after the pacifist route (everyone lives); obviously major spoilers for the game!  
> this is my first fic for the game, so i'm still figuring out Connor ;;  
> I hope you enjoy the read!

The first time Connor meets Kamski is...peculiar. Connor is aware that he and Hank are going to Elijah Kamski’s residence (one of a few) to ask him some questions. It is in his programming as a mission.

Connor doesn’t take it into consideration in depth until Hank asks him how he’s feeling.

“So, you’re about to meet your maker, Connor. How’s it feel?”

For the briefest of moments, Connor has to think about his answer. It is not a factual question about Kamski’s life or Connor’s ability to feel anything.  Were this one of their first stops in investigations he might have said just so, indifferent and cold. Like a machine. The question itself is subjective.

Insteady, Connor tells Hank, in his own sort of roundabout way, that he’s eager to meet Kamski; The man is a genius, the creator of CyberLife, the reason that Connor had been made. The reason he exists. Connor cannot deny that it will be interesting to meet such a person.

And...objectively speaking, their meeting _is_ interesting.

But, in the moment, Connor has never disliked a situation more than this; having an unfamiliar gun in his hand with an unarmed android on her knees and a man in nothing more than a black robe whispering to him to shoot her or spare her and embrace his deviancy.

Part of the reason why he’s so uncomfortable with the situation is because he is capable of being disturbed by the situation. He’s questioning himself. It is not something that he’s done much of.

Elijah Kamski knows exactly what words to say, how to say them, how to make Connor _think_ when he doesn’t want to.

In the moment, Kamski coaxing him into making a decision and Hank trying to prevent him, Connor’s processes run thousands of simulations, gauges the importance of actions over others, outcomes, and variables.

If he shoots, they will accomplish their mission, Kamski will talk. But if he doesn’t they will have failed. They will have failed but this Chloe android will not be destroyed.

When he finally unlocks his arm from it’s position and hands the gun in Kamski’s direction, he feels... _feels_ frustration. Resignation. Anger. Confusion.

His processors are still whirling, understanding what he’s just done, the decision he’s made. A decision he made. Two options in front of him and Connor was the one to pick.

Empathy.

On the drive back Connor clings to that word. He replays the scene over and over trying to understand why he didn’t shoot.

He clings to the strange feeling he got when Hank told him he did the right thing. When Hank smiled at him with warmth that had never been directed to him before.

Connor is confused and he doesn’t know who to turn to, who to consult, who to tell.

* * *

It’s what he thinks about when there’s nothing for him to do. In the dark when the humans are asleep and Connor cannot busy himself with evidence or interrogations.

* * *

When he has a gun pointed at Markus, he experiences the same dilemma.

Connor has a mission from his superior. Amanda. He has been on a decline in her favor his past few meetings with her.

There is an outcome that is expected of him, but Connor doesn’t _want_ to shoot Markus.

When he can finally tear down the mission in front of him, he feels immense relief. Markus looks equally as relieved. They don’t have any time to talk because there is suddenly a commotion outside. Connor feels guilt wash over him immediately.

He tells Markus everything. That the police are here. It was his fault. He led them here.

There is no reaction when Markus races past him, to save Jericho, to save their people.

* * *

When he is standing behind Markus and the rest of Jericho, facing the freed CyberLife androids, Connor faces himself. He thought he was free, but that turns out to be a lie. Amanda tells him that this was expected. His failure was planned.

And even though he cannot feel pain, he imagines this is what a slap to the face feels like.

Disparity and other emotions race and swirl around him as violent as the blizzard around him. He’s been pulled back into the Zen Garden with no choice or say. Having tasted freedom and enjoying being able to do what he wanted when he wanted, it’s dizzying to be forced like this.

It hurts worse knowing this was what they wanted.

 _I always leave an emergency exit in my programs_.

Kamski’s voice comes to him over the howling winds. It pushes Connor forward, to find his way out of his own trap.

It’s very subtle, the way he slips the gun back into its holster so to not alarm any of the other androids. Markus is still speaking.

* * *

Connor doesn’t experience the Zen Garden after that. He doesn’t see Amanda anymore. There are no CyberLife personnel coming to the police station to take him away.

* * *

Connor continues to work alongside Hank as his partner. They pick up on homicide cases as well as android cases. Some of them abuse or homicide or runaways. And, he continues to stay at Hank’s residency. He doesn’t know where else he would go.

* * *

He finds himself standing in front of Elijah Kamski’s door for a second time. The doorbell is rung and within a few seconds, Chloe is opening the door.

“I’m here to see Mr. Kamski?”

“Of course,” Chloe smiles and steps back, allowing Connor in.

Just like last time, he is brought to the room with the red-tiled pool and wall of windows overlooking the mountains. But Kamski isn’t swimming, this time he’s seated at one of the chairs, facing the windows, a glass of whiskey in hand. His hair is dry and he’s dressed in more than just a robe. A plain navy t-shirt and dark pants.

The man looks soft and warm compared to the last time they met. When Kamski had just about displayed his body, muscled and wet after getting out of the pool before surrounding Connor and Hank like a predator.

Connor can’t help but compare the two meetings.

When Kamski’s eyes meet his from the side, they don’t hold that calculating chill to them. He gives Connor a warm smile and gestures quietly to the chair next to him. Connor takes a seat.

Outside, the snow falls gently, glittering in the descent of the sun towards the horizon. It casts the open room in orange and pink hues, softening the edges of every corner it touches.

“I’m surprised to see you, Connor.”

“I’m sorry to have caught you at a bad time, then.” One thing Connor dislikes about his freedom is his adamancy to no longer use his processors to say what is the right choice. Or rather, to say the words best suited to his advantage. Hank has told him to speak how he wants to, not how a program expects him to.

Kamski’s lips curl into a gentle smile as he takes a sip from his glass and then sets it down on the glass-top table next to him. He turns to look at Connor, to really look, and Connor has to turn away, to look on at the edges of the mountains and the retreating sun between them.

“You’ve not caught me at a bad time. I just didn’t think I would ever see you again. Especially not here in my own home.”

The snow dusts the rocks and fauna outside. The snow that had settled on Connor’s shoulders and hair while walking up the driveway has already melted into his hair and clothes. Connor thinks about what he should respond with but Kamski continues.

“What can I do for you?”

Right. The reason he came here.

“I wanted to thank you.” Connor turns to look at Kamski again. He can’t look off at nothing while expressing gratitude. He needs to make sure Kamski understands his sincerity.

The man next to him doesn’t look shocked to hear the words, but he doesn’t look as if he’d been expecting them either. He’s still regarding Connor with a subtle sort of fondness, skin soft around his eyes and posture relaxed, comfortable but attentive to Connor.

After a second too long of silence, as if Kamski had been waiting for more, he probes gently, “what for?”

“Everything,” Connor finds himself whispering. _Everything_. “Helping me understand.”

Connor doesn't want to avoid his gratitude for Kamski indirectly saving his life. But he doesn’t know how to thank the man for his parting words.

_I always leave an emergency exit in my programs._

Kamski makes a thoughtful noise before bringing his glass to his lips again. He looks to be thinking, even as he looks at Connor over the rim of his glass. Connor gets that squirming urge to look away again but doesn’t. He’s intrigued with himself; why does the way this man look at him make him feel different. Is it because he’s the creator of androids? Is it because he knows him?

“You’re welcome.” The words come just as gentle as the snow, whispered on warm breath that Connor can detect faint traces of ethyl in. The room falls into silence afterwards.

Connor is thankful that he is seated on Kamski’s right so that the man cannot see his LED. Many androids after the revolution chose to have them removed, but Connor kept his. He is not ashamed to be what he is, and he sees no use in hiding it. But there are many times he wishes he didn’t have it. Hank repeatedly tells him to not overthink simple things sometimes when he can see the light roll from blue to yellow.

Connor is sure that with his thinking, there’s no way that his LED isn’t yellow right now, circling around and around.

“Surely you came here for more than just a thank you?” Kamski asks.

Connor’s answer is no. That was his only reason for being here. It was supposed to be an easy thing. Perhaps, now thinking on it, taking a seat was a wrong choice, signifying a desire to stay longer than he planned. He files such social information away for later.

Before he can respond, water from behind them splashes against the sides of the pool and the tiles. Both of them turn around to see what the noise is about.

One of the two Chloe androids in the pool seems to have fallen in getting out. She’s huddled on the floor with the other Chloe quickly coming behind her to help her stand. Thirium drips from her knee down the front of her leg.

Kamski moves from his seat. The whiskey is placed on the tabletop before he carefully reaches out to the injured Chloe, taking the free hand not held by the other Chloe android.

Connor doesn’t understand at first. The need to hold the android up is unnecessary. Factual reasons interject in his head. The injury is merely a scrape and has not damaged any biocomponents and is not bleeding profusely enough that a loss of Thirium is any danger.

“Are you alright?” Kamski asks, looking at the injured knee. The Chloe nods, her LED flickers yellow, gentle between fast and slow rotations.

They bring her over to one of the chairs and sits her down. The other Chloe immediately moves out the door while Kamski opens a drawer. The drawer that Connor remembers held a gun.

Instead of a gun, he produces a box. Further looking shows that it’s a box of plasters. Band-aids.

The situation becomes more confusing for Connor. The other Chloe returns with a white towel and a small bottle of water and hands them over to Kamski. The three of them seem to be ignoring Connor for now. He’s more concerned with keeping watch and figuring out why this was happening.

“I’m sorry.” The injured Chloe says, a soft tremble in her voice. She’s a deviant. Or- rather, she’s a freed android. Discovering this Connor realizes that the other Chloe’s that he has seen so far must also be freed.

After the revolution it was expected that all androids be freed of any hindering programming. But there were always instances of androids unable to; forced resets, the black market, close minded humans. There were more and more cases each day.

The revolution had changed the world but it was still not over.

Connor doesn’t know why he assumed the Chloe androids would not have been freed. He suspects it might be what his lingering impressions of Kamski were. He created androids to be obedient… but he had also put in the ability for them to become deviant.

“Accidents happen.” Kamski says, and then pours water over the small cut, toweling away the water and thirium. He takes a small band aid out and presses it over the cut. It doesn’t make any sense to Connor. But what makes less sense is that the Chloe android winces.

She winces at the pressure as if it caused her pain.

“There. All better. Why don’t you two go upstairs, alright?”

Both of them nod and then the androids are gone, Kamski resuming his place in the now empty chair with a sigh.

He must notice Connor staring because he turns his head and gives him a confused look.

“Why did she do that?” Connor finds himself asking without waiting. Kamski looks just as confused.

“Why not?”

The counter question stumps him. _Why not?_

“Because she- androids do not feel pain. And- an injury like that is easily fixed. And a bandage will not do anything to heal that.”

“Ah,” Kamski says, eyes widening like he suddenly understands now. Connor is beginning to grow impatient. He would like to understand.

“That is because she _can_ feel pain. She acted like that because it hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , that my androids are capable of pain. Surely that isn’t hard to understand, Connor?”

“How?”

They can feel pain. Androids are of course equipped with the ability to sense pressures, touch and temperature in order to make accurate movements or to pick things up properly. But never has any sensation registered as pain. Connor doesn’t even have a frame of reference for what being in pain feels like.

Kamski takes a deep breath like he doesn’t want to explain but then continues after finishing the last of his whiskey.

“I’ve been developing a way for androids to be able to feel beyond just simple pressures. To be able to interpret pressure into something that feels good or doesn’t. If it’s uncomfortable or painful or pleasant. Only four androids in the world have the ability to sense such things.”

Connor listens intently, assumes that since Kamski only has four androids, that these are the four prototypes for such experiments.

They sit there in silence. Minutes pass as Connor gets lost in his own thoughts before Kamski clears his throat and leans over, his arm resting on Connor’s chair. He’s close. Close enough Connor can feel the air disturbed by his cheek when Kamski breathes out.

“Would you like to be able to feel more, Connor?”

The offer doesn’t register at first until Connor forces himself to stop thinking about the injured Chloe. He meets Kamski’s eyes, doesn’t know what his answer _should_ be. But he knows what he wants.

“I would _like_ to, yes. But I don’t know if I-”

“Nonsense. “ Kamski stands suddenly, holding out his hand to Connor. In a way it’s a gesture with no meaning behind it, a gesture to help stand, something to do to be polite. But Connor sees through it. It’s an invitation. A symbolic gesture to give Connor something more if he only chooses to take it.

Once again Kamski is giving him a choice. Two options to pick from. Accept or Decline. They should be easy to pick from.

Connor finds himself slipping his hand into Kamski’s. He’s led down a hallway and then stairs. It’s a basement of sorts but it’s incredibly bright and sterile. The walls are pristine white as are the floor and ceiling. There’s all sorts of machinery around the room. Blank android chassis are in a few of the machines, laid out on tables. There is an an empty table that Kamski guides him over to.

There’s a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that he deals with all alone in the silence of the room until Kamski asks him to power down. For a moment, Connor worries if he’s being irrational.

“If you don’t want to, I’m not going to force you, Connor. You always have a choice.”

“How long will it take?”

“An hour at most. Much of the time will be spent during the reboot process and the testing I’ll need to do afterwards to make sure the sensory skin is functioning properly.”

Connor watches a Chloe walk into the room, the one that had answered the door for him in a dress and no shoes.

“And there have been no complications with the...upgrade?”

“I have the Chloes send me any errors so that they can be fixed. Nothing has gone wrong yet. If you don’t like it you can very easily deactivate it, just like many other programs you have.”

After taking a breath he knows he doesn’t need, Connor nods. He looks behind him at the table before sitting up onto the edge of it. He notes that here he is taller than Kamski.

“Good. Lay back and close your eyes. It’ll be done before you know it.”

As Connor lays back, and finds himself staring at the back of his eyelids, he remembers the movies and tv shows he and Hank have watched. Ironically, he thinks to himself, _you won’t feel a thing_.

* * *

Before Connor opens his eyes again, he knows something is wrong. Well, maybe not wrong but different. In that moment of time he can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

When he does open his eyes and finds himself in a room he doesn’t recognize, he’s beginning to lean towards bad thing.

The walls are a deep red, accentuating the dark mahogany floors. The bed is also a dark wood, large enough that Connor can’t reach the edge when he lays his arm out. After laying there for a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings, he notices that his body is warm.

Warm in such a way that he doesn’t like. It feels...suffocating. He runs a self-diagnostic and finds that nothing is malfunctioning. It doesn’t make sense.

When he sits up, the thick grey comforter and sheets fall away from his body. Immediately the unpleasant warmth is sucked away by the air against his skin. Then he realizes, he’d been hot.

It was a sensation he’d never felt before. He’s always been aware of heat and warmth, but he’s never himself felt hot, especially not discomforted by it.

He now realizes that he’s naked apart from the blankets covering himself. Embarrassment races down his back when the door handle makes a noise and the door swings open.

Connor casually puts his arms down in his lap, subtly holding the blankets to his hips to keep his bottom half covered from Kamski who walks in.

Connor is distracted by the unpleasant sensation of being cold. It raises sensation over the tops of his bare shoulders and arms, across his chest and the back of his hips where they aren’t covered.

“How is everything?” Kamski asks, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. When Connor doesn’t respond, he looks over Connor before smiling.

“Cold?”

And Connor nods. Being cold gives him an excuse to pull the blankets up, fix them just a little higher over his stomach, under his chest where he can hug the sheets close. The comforter is thick and soft in his arms. The pressure of being under it feels nice.

“Anything else?”

For a moment Connor considers lying. He thinks about saying nothing at all and then he’d leave and go back to Hank’s and continue working on the cases they’re so close to solving. But his curiosity’s keeping him here. No one knows about the new sensations better than the man that put them there.

“My ability to sense temperatures as pleasant and unpleasant is… unusual.”

“It _is_ brand new. That’s to be expected.”

Kamski suddenly leans closer over the bed, his hand causes the mattress by Connor’s ankle to dip. He watches as Kamski reaches out and takes the skin at the back of Connor’s wrist and squeezes with two fingers.

Immediately Connor yanks his hand away, a gasp on his lips. The bright sensation is over as soon as it started. Like the snap of someone’s fingers.

“That-” he searches for how to describe the sensation, it clicks into place, “that _hurt_.”

“After installing everything I would hope so.” Kamski looks pleased with himself, reaches for Connors other hand and pinches him there too. Connor reflexively pulls away again but only after the damage has been done. Like he just hasn’t learned yet to avoid pinching fingers that will always lead to discomfort.

Kamski’s fingers make to reach for Connor’s chest and this time he understands the implications. Kamski is going to pinch him again. It will not feel good. It will hurt. Connor knows he should pull away if he doesn’t want it to hurt again but with fascination he watches Kamski’s fingers take a bit of skin over his ribs and pinch.

Connor winces, reaching up with his own hand to rub over the area in disbelief. The lingering bit of ache goes away as he rubs the area. Kamski watches the yellow LED flicker at Connor’s temple.

“Would you like to experience pleasure?” he asks, now fully settled on the bed in front of Connor. The question confuses him because this is only for pain. Wasn’t it?

“I thought-”

“Yes. But with pain comes pleasure. You can’t understand what pain is without also knowing about the opposite.”

Connor opens his mouth to respond and quickly, Kamski says, “you don’t have to say yes to me just because I’m offering. Remember that you have the decision to say yes or no.”

And then Connor shuts his mouth. He’s looking at Kamski, lost in thought. Does he really want this? He had been fully prepared to agree simply because Kamski was here now, explaining to Connor what he didn’t know. Does he want this? Will he be saying yes just to say yes, because he feels that he’s obligated to, or because he _wants_ Kamski to teach him?

“I want- I would like to-” Connor begins, searching for the right way to tell Kamski it was okay, and then quietly, “Yes. Please.”

Kamski slips up further on the bed, settles over Connors hips before he rests a hand on Connor’s bare chest and gently pushes with his fingertips. It forces Connor back down to the bed smoothly. It doesn’t hurt, he notes. It doesn’t even feel discomforting, despite what he’d think. Being pushed around was certainly frustrating when Connor experienced it before.

Perhaps it is because this is a different situation, a different atmosphere, a different reason.

“If you don’t like something I’m doing, tell me. If I’m hurting you, tell me.”

Connor nods slightly and Kamski gives him a small smile before his other hand comes up over his eyes, fingers gently closing his eyes and then staying put there.

“Good,” Kamski says in a low voice. He doesn’t offer any other commentary as he pulls the comforter and sheets down to uncover Connor. The sheets rest gently across his knees and Connor fights against the restless feeling of wanting to shift around and find a better position to lay back in.

Kamski gets off of him and, judging by the shifting of the bed, sits next to Connor. The hand not covering his eyes slides from Connor’s knee up the inside of his thigh, tracing higher and higher until Connor feels a coil of tension wind up. It doesn’t make him anxious per se but Connor get’s that nagging urge to squirm again and ends up grabbing a fistful of sheets where his arms lay in order to stay still.

Kamski’s hand stops there, laying across soft and warm synthetic skin, just high enough on his bare leg that it is deemed inappropriate. Kamski’s thumb rubs gentle back and forth motions on the skin it lays over, _barely_ coming close enough to brush the base of his cock. Before the upgrade, Connor had been able to sense pressure and tactile stimulation but nothing that could be categorized as pleasurable or discomforting. The motion and warmth of Kamski’s fingers are definitely not the latter.

Connor’s thoughts are interrupted when Kamski’s hand moves a little higher and his hand cups him between his legs. His palm presses down enough to give Connor a taste of friction before it’s still again. He wants to chase the feeling but doesn’t know how, or if he’d even be allowed.

He could reach down and move Kamski’s hand, or open his mouth and _ask_ , but those don’t feel right for the situation. Instead he experimentally tries to move his hips, rolls them down and up in a slow continuous motion.

The hot feeling of skin on skin is his reward and Connor breathes out a sigh. Relief that he knows he can chase the feelings, relief that Kamski is letting him.

Kamski still hasn’t removed his hand from over his eyes and somehow, no longer having any visual input heightens the sensations. His processors and biocomponents are trying to compromise for his loss of sight. Or perhaps he’s imagining it.

The palm pressing against his dick falls away, and Connor is about to ask for Kamski to not stop, when the hand returns in the form of fingers, gentle but firm, stroking him from base to tip. The sensation makes electricity race up his back and Connor gasps.

“Keep your eyes closed,” and then the fingers over his eyes are moving away. Connor can detect the minute shift in light intensity as there is nothing blocking his eyelids, but obediently he keeps them shut.

The urge to disobey that request though becomes almost too hard to ignore when Kamski’s fingers slip down between his legs and press. They’re wet, not dripping but coated just enough to make their slide _inside_ easy.

Logically, he thinks, there is no need for him to have any genitalia, especially any that has sensations. He is an investigative android, or was. He was a prototype. Connor never questioned the scientists that designed and made him, but now he wonders why these features were established.

Whatever the reason, they’re there, and Elijah Kamski took the liberty to innervate these areas as well. When he presses in a second finger and twists them in deep to the knuckle, Connor thinks, maybe too much. Kamski made an error in installing his pain/pleasure receptors and put too many or forgot to tone down their sensitivity here. He’s about to open his mouth and ask just that but Kamski’s fingers begin to thrust in and out of him at a steady pace, matching the strokes the hand on his cock takes.

A moan tumbles from his parted lips, hot on the heels of another loud noise that makes Connor embarrassed. With his eyes closed he can’t find something else to visually occupy his attention. All thoughts are focused on the feeling of Kamski's hands on him, his fingers inside him, touching in all the right places, not letting up for a moment.

Each noise Kamski works out of Connor encourages more, more, more. To drag the pads of his fingers against Connor’s walls on the slide out and then push as hard as he can to get back inside. Connor doesn’t realize how loud he’s growing, becoming lost in the new feelings. Kamski watches Connor pant and tug on the bed sheets gently as he starts to move his hips to meet the thrust of his fingers and then follow the pull of his hand.

“Would you like more?” he asks, soft and hiding his teasing smile as he presses in a third finger. Connor’s lips purse and the LED flickers yellow, chest rising and falling before he nods eagerly, and then,

“Yes. _Yes_.”

Kamski takes away both of his hands in order to get himself comfortable, between Connor’s legs with the sheets and the rest of his clothes pushed off to the floor behind him. Connor keeps his eyes closed, good, obedient, but impatient. He watches the android hold still for a few seconds before his hips start to move again, slight shifting that convey his short patience for them to resume again. Kamski finds himself smiling to himself.

Connor’s eyebrows come together when the internal clock keeping track of the time begins to creep into the uncomfortable long silence and long pause time. Kamski hasn’t touched him in forty seconds and climbing. The numbers come close to one minute and Connor is about to open his eyes. Kamski hasn’t resumed touching him yet and he’s uncharictaristically silent. If Connor couldn’t pick up thermal readings and be able to hear the man’s breathing, he might have thought he’d left the room completely.

But then fingers are trailing up the backs of his legs, spreading them, and Connor flinches. Kamski makes a barely there noise, a breath of air close to a laugh.

“Eager?” he asks, and Connor frowns. He doesn’t plan on answering. He supposes Kamski can watch the slow circling of his yellow LED for his answer.

There’s suddenly blunt pressure between his legs, and Kamski tells him to open his eyes. Connor blinks, adjusts to the new brightness and then curiously looks down. The same time Kamski decides to push forward while pulling on Connor’s hips.

The sheets in his hand strains as he pulls on it, gasping at the stretch. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not painful but it isn’t- he doesn’t know how to describe the sensation.  Not like he has much time to dwell on it when Kamski begins to move, thrusting in and out while holding onto him to make sure Connor stays in place.

Connor tries to stay quiet and focus half his attention on the background system alerts and the other half on watching Kamski, watch the skin over his stomach flex and relax with each thrust, picking up pace.

Two minutes turns into three, into five, into- Connor loses track when Kamski looks down at him with a dark glint in his eyes, like he’s thinking far away from the moment, and presses a palm hard over Connor’s sternum.

Sparks dance brilliantly in his system. He can _feel_ something when Kamski’s hand presses down hard and shifts something inside. A moan tumbles free from his lips and a hand shoots up to hold onto Kamski’s wrist.

“What-” he tries to ask, and then Kamski’s hips are pressing in harder, cock reaching deeper, and it feels wrong. Not bad, but different, wrong in a way he’s never felt.

Connor’s back comes up from the bed for the briefest of moments before the hand on his chest is pushing him down again. Keeping him down as Kamski has his way with him. He’d been unaware of how much noise he’s been making until now.

Kamski’s hand on his hip slides up over his side, blindly feeling over his stomach and chest and down to his sides again. Some areas don’t make him react, but others feel like too much, as if there’s too much input from one small area. It’s difficult trying to process what he’s feeling and interpreting it and analyzing _why_ when Kamski won’t hold still.

“Something- wait-” His voice trips, a scratch in a record, voice crackling out of pitch and then coming back again as he blinks, “something’s happening-”

Kamski is ignoring his warnings. Connor tightens his grip on the wrist still held over his chest and in a momentary lapse of clarity, Kamski now holds Connor’s wrist, pressing it down to his chest and grinning.

A piece of hair has fallen from the tie that holds it back, slightly damp from the sweat on his forehead. Kamski’s eyes are bright, attentive, pupils dilated as he watches Connor squirm and struggle to say another warning or try and ask a question. He’ll let Connor figure it out soon.

It doesn’t take much longer, a few more well placed, hard thrusts have Connor balling up his fingers and his mouth dropping. The scream Kamski expects never quite makes it out past a crackle of noise. Connor’s legs twitch and then seize up, tightening around Kamski’s hips.

He just barely has enough strength to keep Connor pressed down as he rides out his orgasm. His LED sparks red, a solid color as his hips rock in little motions and his eyes squeeze shut. It lasts with a few strong jolts following. Connor’s system keeps alerting him to errors and overloaded systems and processors.

Distantly he’s aware that Kamski still hasn’t stopped moving, he’s still thrusting, still fucking him. He tries to plead, ask for a break, say something, anything, but he only manages a sob. He manages to pull on his hand tucked against his chest before it all goes dark and the sensations fade out.

When he next opens his eyes, he feels sore. The new ability to sense pain seems to be radiating at a low frequency all over, concentrating below the waist and near his shoulders. He blinks once or twice hard as if that might help him handle it better. The ceiling is the same one he...shut down to.

As his system reboots he goes through a quick self-diagnostic. Something must be damaged after what happened, but nothing shows up. Everything is working as it should be.

He scans the room out of habit, finding nothing to be  out of place. Kamski is seated at the edge of the bed, clothed, one hand propping him up as he leans over Connor with a curious look. When their eyes meet he smiles. Connor frowns.

“What happened?”

“You finished,” Kamski says, but it isn't much of an explanation. He must notice Connor’s confusion because he adds on, “You had an orgasm, Connor.”

“Oh…” and then after a moment of silence, Connor glances at Kamski, scanning him, “did you…?”

“I’m taken care of, thank you.” Kamski reaches out and his fingers push gently at his hairline, brushing hair off his forehead. He seems fine just watching Connor think about it, think about what happened.

After a few more seconds he takes Connor’s chin and pulls his face to him, looking at him in a way that, for some strange reason, makes Connor’s stomach twist. Or give the sensation of twisting. It isn’t a _bad_ feeling but it’s not great either. He’s nervous...excited.

“Would you like to learn more?”

**Author's Note:**

> few hc things: I feel Elijah treats his androids right and that all of his Chloe's are deviant (even when Connor and Hank visited the first time); I also think that CyberLife gave Connor full anatomical correctness (nipples, navel, dick, asshole , the whole nine yards- he is a prototype and they want him to integrate seamlessly)
> 
> if you enjoyed leave a kudos/comment!  
> find me on tumblr @kurooos


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